Germany's Spring Cleaning
by Harlecat
Summary: Germany needs to clean out his attic.


_"Look, if you're going to be staying around, it's the least you could do to be useful for a change. You start sorting through the attic and I'll go get some boxes and cleaning supplies, ja?"_

_I can't believe that idiot Prussia took all those boxes I bought to make a fort,_ Germany thought. _I mean, it's well within his character, but it was such a pain to go buy more. _"Hey, Italy, I'm back!" He kicked the door shut behind him. "Prussia took all the boxes, sorry I didn't tell you I was going out!" _I hope I haven't kept him waiting too long._ He headed up the staircase to his attic. "Italy, are you up here?" He hadn't run off like he normally did in the face of responsibility… had he? "Italy, can you give me a hand with the gottverdammte door? Italy?"

_Dammit, of _course_ he's run off._ Germany kicked the door and it swung open. He dropped the boxes inside, breathing heavily. Italy was looking at something in one of his boxes.

"You know, if you were up here, you could have at least opened the door."

"Eh?" Italy laughed nervously. "Oh, sorry."

Germany sighed. "It's fine. Anyways, sorry that took so long, I'll run down and get the cleaning supplies so we can-"

"Uh, Germany, what's this?"

"Huh? Oh, the box." Germany headed across the room to look at the one Italy was going through. It contained an assortment of various items, though it was mostly filled with black clothes. "Oh, that one. Ja, those were mine when I was little. I told Prussia he could throw them out but I guess he kept them."

"They're yours?"

"Ja." Germany took out the hat to show Italy. It was black and round. "Jesus, look at this thing! Can you imagine how small my head must have been?" He tried putting it on, and it fell off. "Crap, I _was_ tiny."

"I think it's cute," Italy said. He took it and looked at it, and after a pause, put it on. It fell off of him as well.

"I guess," Germany said skeptically. "He kept some of my old pictures too. I don't know why, they're all horrible."

"Can I see?"

"Ja, go ahead. I'll go downstairs and get the cleaning supplies. There might be some stuff up here, too, Prussia's kind of a hoarder."

Germany left the door hanging open and set off down the staircase. It was odd that Italy was so fascinated by his old things. Then again, he'd never seen anything belonging to Germany from before their allegiance, so he supposed it couldn't be helped. After all, Italy was weird. Germany rummaged around in the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink under he'd found everything, and went back upstairs. Italy had carefully unrolled the pictures in the box and was looking at them.

"Italy, it's really not that important."

"I think you were pretty good, doitsu," Italy looked up and smiled weakly at Germany. "Did you draw a lot?"

"I don't know, I can't remember much of back then. I'm a lot better now, but you probably know that. Anyways, I've got everything, so I guess we should start going through all this junk."

Italy nodded and started rolling the papers back up meticulously.

"Don't waste time on that! Just fold them up, they're not important."

Italy nodded again and continued to devote his attention to rolling up the papers. "Dummkopf, are you even listening? Ugh." Germany took down one of the boxes. Prussia really did need to learn the value of throwing things away, Germany didn't need any more boxes of random papers and all those diaries took up way too much space.

"Hey, Germany, do you have anything else of yours up here?"

Germany looked at the boxes Italy had clearly opened and shoved to the side very deliberately. "Ja, it's _my_ attic."

"Like, from when you were little?" Italy beamed, growing excited. "You never talk about when you were little! Can I see your other stuff?"

"Well, like I said, I don't remember much. I think there's some more lying around. Like I said, Prussia keeps everything. You can look for them if you like, but remember to help me!"

"Okay, cool!" Italy grinned and started going through the boxes. "Germany, if it's so bad to keep a lot of stuff, why do you have so many handcuffs and videos?"

"_Those are different!_"

"Okay, if you say so!"

"They are!"

Italy giggled. He actually giggled. "Well, I-"

Italy, who'd just opened another box, paused and looked over at Germany. It took him a moment to realize he was staring at him.

"What is it this time?"

"Can you tell me about this box?"

"Sure, whatever." Germany crossed the room for a look. It was a painting of a young child. A girl, probably, since they were wearing a green dress. "Well, that's a painting."

Italy gave him an anxious look and started talking quickly. Germany could scarcely make out what he was saying. "Yeah, I know! I figured! Who's it of? Is it yours?"

"Jesus, calm down! I don't know who it's of, I don't think it's mine. You can throw it away if you want."

Italy looked shocked, even a little panic stricken. "I can?"

"Ja, sure. Oh, hey!" Germany picked up the painting and tossed it onto the ground. Italy was acting weirder than normal. "Is that a broom in there?"

"Uh… I… think so?"

"I knew Prussia was hiding my cleaning supplies!"

"This is... yours?"

"Ja, it's my push broom! The handle's kind of falling off, but it still works!" Germany twisted off the handle to show Italy. "So long as it still cleans! It's probably going to fall apart one of these days but until then, might as well keep it, right? Wonder why Prussia put this up here."

"Uh, Merangy, I mean, German, Mergan, uh, G-Germany-"

"Spit it out, Italy."

"So- what should I do with the painting?"

"What? Oh, do whatever you want with it. You can throw it away."

"Really?" Italy looked over at it, then reached over to pick it up. "So, could I keep it, maybe?"

"Ja, I don't care. It's just a painting."

"Oh. Okay." Italy gathered up the painting. "I'll just… carry this downstairs, then."

"Come back up, okay?" Germany called as Italy disappeared through the door. "I'll never get this attic done if you slack off!"

He shook his head, smiling wryly. Italy could be a pain, but it was nice to have someone interested in his life for a change. Someone who wasn't interrogating him, anyways.

"So, Germany!"

He looked up and saw Italy racing back into the attic, arms flung out. Someone was having mood swings. At least Italy had cheered himself back up in the five seconds he'd been gone.

"Ja?"

"So, I saw your broom and your old clothes, but what were you like when you were little? I never actually met you, did you become a country after me? You did, right? _Right_?"

"Oh," Germany said. "You're still acting weird."

"You must've been pretty small, all the big countries bullied me all the time! France and Austria picked on me a lot but Spain always gave me churros!"

"That's great, Italy, can you help me move this box?"

"Sure!" Italy helped Germany pick up the box. "Once I started living with Austria and Hungary everything got better."

"Oh, I lived with Austria too, for awhile."

"Seriously?"

"Ja! That's a weird coincidence."

"Ve! It really is! When were you living with them?"

"I don't really know."

"Well, what do you know?"

"I keep telling you, I don't remember a lot, okay?"

"Sorry!" Italy looked away.

Germany sighed, feeling guilty. "Like I said, I wore a dumb hat, I drew bad pictures a lot, and I lived with Austria until some war, that's it. All I know is what Prussia's told me."

"But- there has to be more! You can't have just shown up all big and scary!"

"Well, let me think." Germany paused, and Italy dropped the box they'd been carrying. "Jesus _Christ_, Italy!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Gott verdammt!" Germany growled. "Be more careful next time!"

"I'm really sorry!"

"Ungh, it's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Ja. No big deal, I can walk. But don't go dropping boxes on people!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Nevermind." Germany opened up the fallen box. "We can get rid of this, it's just Prussia's old military documents. There are copies of these. If you start sorting through them, I'll start cleaning up." He picked up his push broom and Italy nodded vigorously, and started shuffling papers around.

"Okay! Hey, if you don't mind me asking, what war did you have to fight in? You know, when you moved out of Austria's place?"

"I dunno, some battle with France. All I really remember is waking up with a really bad headache and Prussia trying to feed me soup." Germany gave Italy a scathing look. "If I'm ever unconscious, don't try to feed me soup. It won't help."

"I won't, I promise!" Italy bit his lip nervously. "Ah, Germany. Do you… remember the war?"

"Not really, no. Why?"

"It's just… I knew some… people. Who fought in it."

"Well, I'm sure they had a great time."

"They, ah… they didn't really… I mean, they didn't…"

"Oh!" Germany snapped his fingers. "Now I remember!"

"What do you remember?" Italy bounced up and down. "The war?"

"Oh. Sorry, it's nothing important. I just remembered that I had a different name when I was smaller. You know, like Prussia used to be the Teutonic Knights? Ja, I was also called something else. It had something to do with God. And Rome, I think. Holy… Kingdom… of Rome? No, that's wrong. Holy Roman Kingdom?"

Looking distraught, Italy said, "I don't think those ever existed, Germany."

"Well, it was something like that. Who was it you knew in the war?"

"You probably wouldn't have known them."

"If you say so."

"Germany…"

"Yes, Italy, what is it now?"

"Well…" Italy's eyes had grown very wide, and his voice had spiralled an octave higher. He was only getting more distressed. _Dammit! Why can't he calm down?_ "Was your name… Was it maybe… the Holy Roman Empire?"

"Oh, ja!" Germany nodded sharply, turning to look at him. "That's exactly it! I was the Holy Roman Empire! It's kind of a dumb name, I must've been a real idiot as a kid."

"Oh…" Italy started ringing his hands together furiously. "I'm sure you weren't."

Germany laughed. "Whatever you say, Italy. Are you done with those papers? Oh, damn."

"Huh?" Italy squeaked.

"Nothing, the head of the push broom just fell off again. I guess it's past it's time." He sighed. "It's too bad, I really like this thing. Shame. I'll have to throw it away now."

"I'll take it!" Italy shouted loudly, snatching the head and handle from Germany. He looked frantic. "I can fix it for you, if you want! Will you want it back if I do? I can glue it, I swear! It won't break again!"

"Italy, it's no big deal, I'll just get a new one."

"But- but- you shouldn't waste things!"

Germany raised an eyebrow. "I can't say you're wrong. I guess I can keep using the end for cleaning."

"No, I'll glue it!"

"It's _fine_, Italy, drop it."

"I want to!"

"It's none of your business, Italy."

"But-"

"If it's such a big deal, I'll glue it later! What's gotten into you today? You're acting pretty damn strange. More so than normal! Have you even looked at those papers you're supposed to be going through?"

Italy looked away. "Sorry," he said quietly, and started shuffling the papers again. There were a few minutes of quiet paper shuffling and the sounds of Germany sweeping, broken when Italy sniffed loudly. Germany set his broom down.

"I'm sorry for snapping, okay?!"

"Ahh!" Italy gave him another look, this one even moreoverwrought. "It's fine, it really is!"

Germany put a hand over his forehead. _Mein gott._ "Look, if you need to go take your daily siesta or whatever, that's fine, and if you're not up to cleaning the attic, you can do something else. Seriously, though, what's gotten into you today?"

"Nothing! I swear!"

"If you don't want to be up here right now, that's fine, I understand."

"No!" Italy said, agitated. "I want to help!" Italy jumped back down and started pawing through the papers at a rapid pace.

"Italy," Germany said. "Stop that for a minute."

"Y-yessir!"

Italy dropped all his papers and Germany shifted to get a better look at him. His cheeks were wet and his shoulders were shaking. He really was beside himself.

What the hell? "Are you having an emotional day or something? Like girls do?"

"No," Italy sniffed.

"Jesus. Get out of the attic and eat some pasta or pet a cat or something. Just go calm down and cheer yourself up."

"But-"

"_Go_, Italy."

Italy stared at Germany for a moment, then flung himself across the room and grabbed onto him tightly. "Grazie!"

"Ja, sure. Stop crying on me!"

"S-scusate. I'll just… I'll just… go, then." Italy let go of Germany and started moving towards the door.

"Hey, are you taking the painting?"

"I dunno."

"If you don't, I'll probably throw it away."

"Oh! Si, then!" Italy scrambled to grab the painting and rushed for the door. "ThanksGermany-sorryIwassuchanuisanceIpromiseI'llcomehelpyoulaterIreallywill-_grazie_tiamo-iseimancato-graziescusate- bye!"

The door slammed behind him.

Germany sighed. Italy really could be weird, sometimes. It was probably his own fault, for trying to get him to do something.

He glanced over at the push broom and wondered if Italy would notice if he didn't fix it. Probably not, but if he found out, he'd probably get upset.

"Great," he grumbled. "Now I have to go fix this, too? Stupid push broom."

He picked it up. Italy had stuck the handle back in the head whilst frantically trying to fix it for Germany, and it fell out again. _Of course_. Germany picked it up and frowned.

Someone must have owned the broom before him. It looked like a name had been carved into it at some point. He could make out part of it- there was a distinct _A_. Well, lots of countries had As in their names, so that meant nothing. Maybe he should put his name on there.

"Hey, Italy," he called out to the empty house. "Are you still here?"

No answer.

Germany was struck by a sudden, strange sense of vertigo, so strong that he had to sit down on his couch. Oddly enough, he felt like he was spiraling downwards, and was suddenly quite dizzy. He felt a little ashamed, for a moment. He'd yelled at Italy when he was in a bad state. What would his life had been like, if he hadn't met Italy? He'd definitely had some sort of effect on his life, and deserved better than to be treated so harshly. Furthermore, when Germany thought about it, it was rather… _embarrassing_ to have no memories of your childhood. What would Italy think of him? How _would_ his life be different without him?

_Well_, he realized. _I've been a lot happier, since then. And putting up with him every day's probably made me less irritable_. He smiled. His world really had been brighter since he'd found Italy hiding in that dumb tomato box.

He sat there for a moment, his mind strangely blank. He felt strange too. Was this somehow Italy's fault? Why was he so focused on him, anyway? Why couldn't he focus? _Go do something,_ he told himself, and stood up. Ah. Yes. The broom. Time to go fix it. He'd have to find a knife if he wanted to carve in his name.


End file.
